"So what exactly did you come here for?"
Roger asked, looking at Tours in front of him.
Tours was still shaken by what had just happened, so for a moment he was a little dazed by Roger's question.
His body was still trembling slightly.
After all, not everyone could stay calm when faced with a dagger that had just sliced through their eyelashes like they were nothing.
All the more so when that dagger belonged to their boss, Roger Eikam.
Seeing him like this, Roger felt a twinge of guilt, but who told this kid to get so good at stealth?
To be able to train to this level in such a short time—
To sneak up behind him without being noticed—
Roger didn't know if that was good or bad, but the fact that one of his own men, a disciple he'd personally trained, had mastered stealth to this degree did prove that the guy had considerable talent.
So his effort teaching stealth hadn't gone to waste.
But that wasn't necessarily a good thing either.
If his own disciple could take one of his unique specialties and polish it to such a masterful level, didn't that mean that in the not-too-distant future, this disciple might surpass him and become the next stealth master?
And when that happened—once the assassination-ready stealth he used had been learned completely by Tours—might there be a day when Tours posed a threat to Roger himself?
Like that saying: "Teach your apprentice, starve your master."
Roger felt this was a very real hidden danger. But when he thought about who was standing before him—Tours, whose loyalty had always been unquestionable, who had passed countless tests—he no longer felt it was such a problem.
I've taught him, so I've taught him, Roger thought.
Either way, he had the power of the Titans in his body—several Titans, in fact.
So what if this kid perfected stealth?
If that dagger of his couldn't sever Roger's head clean off in a single instant, then the one who would end up counter-killed would be Tours.
And if Roger struck back—
It would definitely be fatal.
So Roger wasn't worried.
After giving Tours a little time to calm down from his fright, Roger asked again the question he'd started with:
"So what did you come here for?"
"Oh, boss, I came to tell you that we found a guy with really strange skin color on Marley's airship."
"Skin color?"
"Yeah, his skin is black. Not like us—we all have yellow skin."
"Oh?"
That explanation sparked Roger's interest in this black-skinned man.
He was quite curious what kind of background this person had, so he said to Tours, "Come on, let's go take a look."
They walked through the streets, Roger and Tours together.
Or rather, Tours led the way, and Roger followed behind.
Before long, Tours brought Roger to where the black man was being held.
Because they didn't know yet whether he was friend or foe, the black man had been locked up in a prison inside the Walls.
Of course, he hadn't been thrown in with those perverts. Roger had already said there might be others on the airship who were unrelated, like attendants or other staff.
From the standpoint of the war, they were innocent. There was no reason to hate them that deeply, and to some extent they weren't really collaborators so much as people forced into their situation just to survive.
When the boss spoke, they listened, and carried out his orders very strictly. So this black-skinned man was only kept in a regular cell, waiting for their boss to come and question him.
The people inside the Walls had never seen someone like him. At first they thought he was some sort of alien, or a monster like a Titan, and they were instinctively afraid of him.
But once they saw how he spoke, the way he talked, his casual habits and gestures that felt very human, they relaxed.
Some of them—even a few of the guards watching over him—began to feel curious.
They listened to him talk about how the outside world had developed, and in their hearts they felt boundless longing and deep respect for him.
The black man would say, "This is just some of the things I've seen and thought about in the world outside. For people out there, none of this is anything special, but the fact that you're trapped inside these Walls… it really is a pity.
"Clearly, beyond the Walls, on the other side of the sea, there are all sorts of beautiful things. And God will extend His grace to all of you as well."
Hearing this, everyone felt a strange sense of confusion.
"God? What's a god?"
They asked, puzzled.
The black man was surprised for a moment. It struck him as odd too. But when he remembered that the Walls had been cut off from the outside world for at least a hundred years, he understood.
"God is the one who created us, the one who saves humankind! As long as God lives, this world will never again be plunged into suffering!"
"But we're already suffering. Our homes were destroyed by Titans, and we haven't done anything about it."
When he heard that, the black man lowered his head silently.
"I'm the same…" he murmured.
Just then, Roger walked in.
He looked at the black-skinned man in front of him. Having entered in time to hear talk about "god," he couldn't help feeling a little curious.
All of a sudden, he remembered those days he'd once spent living in Marley.
Those days had been dark and brutal, but they were still his childhood.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're from Laibusi, right?"
"That's right, you guessed correctly. Our country was invaded by Marley a few months ago. Even though Marley has returned our lands now, I, as a prisoner of war, am still being held with no freedom at all."
Hearing this, Roger was reminded of his own days of imprisonment in the internment zone. For a moment, he felt a sympathetic tug toward the man in front of him.
"I can really understand what you've been through," he said. "I can release you and send you back to your country. But first you should tell me: what's your name? What can you do? How can you help me?"
The black man stiffened when he heard that.
He had originally thought the people inside the Walls were all good people—including Roger. But now, it seemed that this Roger was treating him with a certain "use you if you're useful" mindset from the very beginning.
If I don't have any skills, they'll probably just kill me, won't they? he thought.
"My name is Onyankopon. I'm an airship technician. I can operate airships, and I can build other kinds of machines. If you need me, I can help you. But first, you have to promise to send me home. There are important inventions I still need to complete there."
"No problem. But just like Marley, I need your technology. I need you to build more airships for the people inside the Walls. Other large machines too—if you know how to build them."
"Everything you mentioned is fine. It's just, if you want to build airships or other large machines—things like cannons or trains—I'll need blueprints. I don't have the full manufacturing processes or necessary materials memorized in my head. But if you give me the plans, I can follow them and build everything with my own hands."
"I see."
Roger nodded, already thinking through his next steps.
Just then, someone knocked on the prison's iron door.
"Hello, my name is Mikasa. I'm a soldier of the Survey Corps…"
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